Five Days with Brendan Brady
by TLWay
Summary: Au fic. Ste owes a lot of money to loan shark Brendan Brady. How will he repay his debts? - Due to some requests, I've decided to do a rewrite of this story that I did a long time ago. I'm sorry, I know this is very odd, but I hope you like it.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, so the original 'Five Days with Brendan Brady' was sadly wiped out on my old hard drive :( But so many people have mentioned to me that they really enjoyed the story, that I've decided to try and rewrite it from memory, so those lovely people out there can read it whenever they want. **

**So, let's see how this goes shall we...**

**(I'm sorry if you've read it before and the re-posting is really annoying for you, it_ is _quite an old fic, and I will be doing it in two or three parts. The next part will probably be some time next week).**

* * *

At 21 years old, this wasn't how Ste Hay had pictured his life would turn out.

He'd known since he was a child that it wouldn't be anything special, sure. His future was hardly anything to aspire to, enough people had prepared him for that. His mum, who taught him that he was nothing but a blight on her drinking money. His step-dad, who felt much the same. Teachers, who saw that he was stupid, then lazy, then a waste of their time. No, it stood to reason that Ste wasn't expecting much out of life, but this...this was just something else.

There was a time when things were better. Going well, even. Amy came into the picture, and changed him for the better. She gave him two gorgeous children, that he'd do anything for. And even when things with Amy fell apart at least he still had them. All of them. He had a job too. A nice little chef gig at a restaraunt round the corner. The pay wasn't anything to write home about, but it was enough to live on. Enough to treat the kids and even go down the pub sometimes of a weekend and be lulled to sleep by a mixture of cheap lager and colourful alcopops. Some nights he'd even get a girl back to his place, and that was fine, even if no one special had stood out to him yet. He was enjoying himself.

Then one day everything went west. His job went. It was nothing to do with him, they assured him on the phone. 'Financial complications' apparently. They'd gone broke and so had Ste. Suddenly he couldn't pay the rent on time. He couldn't buy things for the kids any more. Amy was frantic, living month to month on the edge like they were, not a job between them, and the bank wouldn't touch them with a barge pole. She told him it was fine, but he had heard her crying at night, and neither of them were eating properly. Ste needed to fix it. His family meant everything to him.

And then some good news came, or so Ste had thought. A mate of his knew a friend of a friend who could lend large amounts of cash upfront, and it seemed like the answer to all of their problems. Next thing he knew he was in an alley, taking a couple of hundred off some dodgy guy in a hoodie. Job done.

The money went quick though. So quick. And then he had people ringing him, day and night. There was talk of interest, and knee caps, and Amy and the kids. His deadline for it had been and gone, but he'd barely managed to scramble fifty pounds together. And that's how Ste had found himself in a taxi office, that was barely a front for the guys he owed money to, ready to beg for himself, and for the people he loved, for just a bit more time to sort the money out.

The seat was uncomfortable, and the door at the far end of the room was locked tight, but Ste knew what was in there. He'd seen it before, a grotty looking skin head with a bad temper. A very bad temper, actually. Last time Ste had been in there he'd noticed a sledge hammer tucked under the desk and briefly wondered which one of his limbs the guy would want to use it on first. He couldn't sit still. He felt sick. It wasn't fair for them to keep him waiting so long, prolonging his torture. He was almost considering running, but the thought of his kids held him in place. He'd die before he let anyone take it out on them but christ he wished he'd never gotten caught up in any of this. He'd been there for hours, and suddenly he needed to stand up, give himself a break from the awful plastic chair he'd been perching on, get some fresh air into his lungs.

As soon as Ste rose to his feet an unknown weight barrelled into him from behind, sending him stumbling forwards into the wall opposite with a crack. The bones of his fingers felt twisted.

"What the fuck?!"

"Ere, watch where you're going, yeah?!" Ste yelled without thinking.

"Or what?" Spat a thick, Irish accent.

Ste turned to face his opponent. Far from the jumped up little chav that he was expecting to be in and out of this place, the man before him was tall and suited, with the dark line of a moustache standing out above his top lip. He looked slick, and well put together with his flashy clothes and gelled hair. He must have been a business man or something, Ste thought. He held a different kind of power than the one Ste usually saw, it was more than physical, it was in his eyes and his stance. Ste tried to back off.

"I was just saying like, you walked into me a bit, I think." He mumbled, and hated himself for it.

The man didn't move, but Ste could see the flare of his nostrils, the slight pull of his upper lip.

"_I_ walked into _you_? Is that what happened?" The suited man looked to the counter towards a little pot-bellied bloke who'd done nothing but stare at a crossword the whole time Ste had been there, but he was paying attention now, eye-balling Ste with nothing but cold hatred.

In his distraction Ste hadn't noticed the suited man getting closer until there was a hand around his throat, and a face snarling into his own.

"See, I think you're mistaken, kid." Ste clutched at the man's hand around his neck, protesting, he was crazy! "I think you walked into me, and that's not very nice now, is it?"

The man held firm as Ste struggled to push him away.

"_Is it? _" The man repeated with a hiss.

Ste relented and shook his head as well as he could, his mouth hanging open as he tried to catch a bit more air. The man seemed to take notice of the panting breaths, and after a long second he moved his hand away sharply and Ste fell back into the wall, wiping his mouth with a cough.

"And you'll do well to learn some manners, kid."

That was almost the end of it, but Ste couldn't stop himself.

"Nutter." He heaved under his breath as the man began to walk away.

He froze on the spot, eyes wide beyond belief, like no one in his life had ever talked back to him.

"The fuck did you just say to me?"

"Nothing." Ste shrugged weakly, his mind quickly forming exit strategies even as he rubbed his neck.

Why couldn't he just let things go like a normal person?

"Who the fuck are you?!"

Ste didn't answer, but realised that he was pouting like Amy had told him he did sometimes when he was in a mood, so he tried to straighten his jaw instead.

"None of your business." Ste grumbled, voice barely audible as the man stared him down.

"What are you doing in here? Hey? You waiting for a cab? Or something else?"

The man's question surprised him, and Ste couldn't help but look towards the door at the back, where the fate of himself and his family lay hanging in the balance.

"Oh, I see." The man nodded, then laughed heartily to himself, and turned his back on Ste without a second glance to burst through that door at the back like he owned the damn place, slamming it behind.

Ste was stunned.

"I _was_ here first, actually." He huffed as he let himself drop back into the measly plastic chair next to him.

He thought he heard the pot-bellied man behind the counter call him and idiot before returning to his crossword.

So this was his life now.

Half an hour later the door opened again, and Ste didn't dare look up. He didn't even want to know if it was his turn, he just wanted to go, but the footsteps that came from the room didn't pass him by. They stopped in front of him, too close, almost toe-to-toe, a pair of expensive black shoes and a spicy aftershave that Ste had become all too familiar with moments earlier.

"Do you mind?" Ste grumbled as he lifted his head and came face to face with the man's groin.

Whoever he was, he obviously wasn't too concerned with the concept of personal space.

"Steven Hay."

"You what? How do you know-"

The man tapped a slim brown folder knowingly, a wolfish grin over taking his features.

"Walk with me, Steven."

The man headed out and Ste found his feet stumbling after him before he could do anything otherwise.

"What are you-" He was so confused. "No, I can't go anywhere, I've got...a thing.

The man stopped, and followed Ste's eyes towards the room at the back, where the man he'd feared for months sat hunched over, even more sour-faced than usual.

"What, you wanna play with Mr. Sledgehammer instead? Fine, be my guest. Here I thought I was doing you a favour." Then he went to leave, and Ste didn't know why but he grabbed onto him, fingers digging into the man's arm desperately.

If there was a better way out of this then Ste was taking it, end of story.

"But, I thought..." Ste came closer and lowered his voice. "He's the boss, isn't he?"

The man ducked his head even closer to Ste's, and Ste would've moved away but it felt important, almost confessional, and for some reason he just didn't. The man had barely opened his mouth and Ste was hanging on his every word, when had that happened? There was just something there. Something strong about him that compelled a person to listen.

"Get..."

"What?" Ste pushed on, eager to know.

"Get your hand off me." His eyes bored into Ste's own, as Ste didn't immediately obey the request.

He hadn't even noticed that he was still holding on, and he withdrew his hand quickly.

"Do you really think that thing in there, is the boss of me? Really?"

It seemed absurd now that Ste thought about it. Now that he looked at them both. It was painfully obvious who was the top dog around this place.

"...I suppose not. So, who are you then?" Ste asked, feeling a level of dimness that he hadn't experienced since school.

"I'm a man that you owe a lot of money to, Steven." He smiled falsely. "Shall we walk?"

He left and Ste followed him through the door this time, all the way back to his car, bouncing along with the man's long strides as he sternly pressed buttons on his phone. The man didn't say a word, until they reached his vehicle, and Ste bit his tongue the whole way, painfully so. He had so many questions. Who was the man? What did he want with Ste? What did he know about him?

"Get in." The man barked, sliding into the drivers seat.

Apprehensively, Ste followed. Inside, he could see that the man had a whole pile of the thin brown files in his hand, and with nothing but a quick glance he plucked one from the rest and threw the others onto the backseat.

"Now then." He thumbed through the file as Ste shuffled in his seat, trying to get a closer look. "Steven, Steven, Steven. What a mess you've gotten yourself into."

Ste wondered fleetingly if this was a trap. Get him on his own in a car park so they could all have at him without disturbance.

"So." The man snapped the file shut. "It's the end of the line then."

Ste's could feel his pulse quickening. What was happening? Was this is it? Were they going to get him?

"You got my money?"

"Yeah...I mean no, but...I will get it!" Ste pleaded, and the man seemed unsurprised by his passion.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah." Ste nodded his head. He would get it.

"You got a job?" The man raised a lazy brow at him.

"Well..." The question threw Ste a bit. "No, not as such, but-"

"Any source of income? No? How much money you got going out? All those mouths to feed, it doesn't look good."

Ste opened his mouth but words were failing him. He couldn't afford to fuck this up.

"I'll sell stuff, right." Ste assured him. "I'll sell everything I own-"

"You owe more than two grand."

"What?" Ste couldn't breathe. "No, that can't...that can't be right...I don't have that much, I can't-"

"You really got to keep an eye on that interest." The man nodded, feigning sympathy. "So what's plan B, Steven? Win the lottery?"

"I'll get it." Ste said again, but his voice was hollow. "Please."

How could he get that much money? It wasn't possible.

"Hmm." The man seemed thoughtful. "Listen, obviously you ain't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but maybe there is another way-"

"What?" Ste could barely focus on the man's words, his ever increasing debt now like a weight that crushed his chest and sucked the air from his body. How where they going to cope with this? What would he tell Amy?

"I'm just saying, I'm not like those guys back there. They're idiots. Neanderthals. You miss one deadline they're breaking all your fingers. I like to think of myself as a civilised man, yeah?"

"Err, yeah?" Ste repeated his words with suspicion, and couldn't help but remember being throttled in a taxi office not one hour back.

"Hey." He tapped Ste sharply on the underside of his chin with a lone knuckle, so the boy had to look at him. "So, maybe you can do a few jobs for me and I'll take it off what you owe me."

"Jobs?"

The man gave nothing away, but he could see that this moment had become important. His focus on Ste's answer was absolute.

"What kind of jobs-"

"Just some things that I don't wanna do. Little things. They're tedious."

"But-"

"You do a couple of jobs for me, lets say five in total, and I'll knock your debt down each time until it's gone. It's a pretty good fucking deal, kid, I suggest you take it."

"Just five?"

"Just five little jobs, and you're free." He wiggled his fingers in front of Ste, to emphasise the freedom.

Ste thought about it. What could he say? Obviously there would be a catch, with men like this there always was, but how could he say no? He had to think of the kids, didn't he? They'd be better off because of this one day. He had to.

"Yeah." Ste agreed. "Yeah, okay."

"Glad I could make you see sense, Steven." Out of nowhere the man was quickly tucking a piece of paper into the pocket of Ste's polo shirt, his fingers dipping smoothly into the fabric. "Be there tomorrow, ten o'clock. And I know what your type are like, so don't even think about being late, you understand me?"

"Yeah, fine." Ste shrugged.

"No." The man took hold of Ste's chin again and forcibly nodded Ste's head for him. "I ask you a question like that, you say 'yes, Brendan'. Yeah?"

Ste pushed the man's hand away. _Brendan_.

"Yes, Brendan." Ste ground out through clenched teeth, but the man only smiled, wild and toothy.

"Good lad." Then as quickly as the smile was there, it was gone. "Well, get the fuck out then, I ain't a taxi. Jesus."

Just five jobs, and Ste would be a free man.

**DAY ONE.**

Fuck, he was gonna be late.

He'd been up and down this street at least twenty times, trying to find number twelve, but there just wasn't one. He couldn't be late, Brendan had been emphatic on that point, and Ste had no idea what time it was any more.

At the height of his panic he was about to start knocking on doors and ask the neighbours if they'd seen a psychotic, mustachioed, businessman knocking around anywhere, but then he saw it. A hint of silver. The back of Brendan's car poking out of an alley at the end of the close.

Ste ran over to it like his life depended on it, and saw that the alley was actually a private walk way that led into well fenced off garden. It had to be it.

The gate was stiff at first, but as Ste pushed it was suddenly wrenched open and a harassed little guy jumped out, clutching a package which was quickly stuffed behind his back at the sight of Ste.

"Watch it!" Ste moaned as the guy nearly knocked into him.

"Hey, sorry about that." He called back as he rushed off down the alley.

Ste noted that his accent had been weird. Like he was American or something.

"What time do you call this?" A stern voice reprimanded him before he'd even managed to finish his thought.

Brendan leant against the back door with his arms crossed, appearing to tower over Ste thanks to some well placed concrete steps.

"I dunno, do I?" Ste shrugged with a wave of his wrist. "Must've forgot to put me Rolex on this morning."

"Excuse me?" Brendan's eyebrows shot up, and Ste remembered who he was talking to.

"I mean...it won't happen again." He felt like Brendan was waiting for something more, but he didn't know what. "Honest."

Brendan held his gaze for a moment then burst into raucous laughter, loud and booming. Ste nearly jumped out of his skin. The man was obviously mental.

"You got some goddamn nerve, kid. I'll give you that." Brendan shook his head, then pointed towards the house. "In. Now. Come on. Chop, chop."

Ste found himself shuffled towards a room at the very front of the house, that he guessed Brendan used only for these sorts of meetings, due to it's unfurnished nature. It was all but bare except for a small two-seater couch and a single leather chair opposite. In between the two was a slim glass coffee table.

"This is...nice." Ste offered awkwardly, searching for something good about the room that he could comment on. "I like what you've done with the...uhh...wall paper. It's really like...beige and that..."

"Jesus, sit down." Brendan commanded, as Ste looked briefly between his two options. "Couch. Sit on the couch. Chair's mine."

Brendan left the room and returned with two parcels that he tossed onto the table. He took a seat in the leather chair, legs wide open and intimidating.

Neither said anything, and Ste struggled to contain himself. He knew it was a test. He needed to let Brendan speak first, but the silence was so overwhelming. The tension in the room too thick. After a minute or two, his throat was practically burning with questions but Brendan only raised a brow.

"So, do you live by yourse-"

"What if I do?" Brendan cut him off instantly. "You're a bit nosey ain't you? Gobby as well."

"Gobby?" Ste spluttered. "What-"

"You talk too much. It's annoying."

"Right, am I taking these packages then, or what?" Ste bit back. He didn't have to sit here and be talked to like an idiot.

"Oh, and he's sensitive too. That's cute." Brendan laughed.

"I take it you do live by yourself then?" Ste asked, but it wasn't a question anymore. "I can already tell no one in their right mind would wanna spend a second with you."

"Well...ouch." Brendan said after a moment, dripping with sarcasm. "Right in the heart, that one, Steven. How will I go on with my life after that little stinger?"

Brendan's face gave nothing away, but he dropped the subject anyway, and pushed a small piece of paper towards Ste.

"Take the packages to the addresses. Don't look at anyone. Don't _talk_ to anyone, for the love of...Just bring back the money. I'm sure even a bright spark like you can handle that-"

"Are they..." Ste picked one up delicately. It had been a long time since he'd done anything like this, and he had to admit, there was a bit of a buzz to it. A danger. "Is it drugs?"

"Don't get over-excited, kid." Brendan said slowly, but took in Ste's reaction with shining eyes.

"I'm not getting excited." Ste insisted, but felt Brendan's gaze on him still as he licked his lips. "And i'm not a kid. I have done stuff like this before you know."

"Fair enough." Brendan's eyes snapped away from the sight of him. "Right, well, off you go then."

And it was as easy as Brendan had promised. An hour later, Ste had switched his packages and was congratulating himself on being just that little bit closer to wiping his debt.

"Everything go okay?" Brendan was on him as soon as he opened the door.

"Fine, yeah." Ste handed him the envelope. "That's your money, I reckon. I didn't count it there..."

"Good, that's good." Brendan nodded, seemingly impressed. "So you didn't cock it up, congratulations. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all."

Brendan was pleased, he could tell. It felt good, to have some pride swelling in his chest for a change. He could get used to the man's praise, he thought.

Then Ste found some money being pressed into his own hand. A couple of twenties by the look of it. Brendan's hand was warm in his palm.

"What's that for?" Ste panicked, confused. "You're paying me? But the debt-"

"Relax, I'm still wiping the debt, fucksake, you've gotta eat and stuff don't you?"

"Well..." Ste didn't know what to say. "Yeah I suppose, but...thanks. It's mint that is. Probably even enough to pay off a bit of the phone bill there and all. Amy gets proper depressed when we get cut off-"

"Well, hooray." Brendan drawled his mood turning nasty once more as he counted the remainder of the money out onto the coffee table. "You put in all that effort and now your little girlfriend can yap away on the phone to her heart's content. How heart warming."

"Oh, no. She's not my girlfriend." Ste laughed, too happy with the money in his hand to take the insult the way Brendan meant it.

"So?" Brendan stopped counting. "What the fuck are you telling me that for?"

"Well, it's, no reason..." Ste stumbled over his words. There was no reason, he just..."It's just you said she was, so I'm saying it's not like that. We just live together."

"And you think I care about that?" Brendan was standing now, deceptively still in his anger.

"No, of course not." Ste shrugged, genuinely. "Why would you?"

"Obviously, I wouldn't."

"Okay."

Then Ste had a weird moment, where he felt as if he was in some kind of stand off that he'd failed to understand and had no idea how to diffuse. Brendan squinted at him, like he was trying to see right through Ste. It was confusing.

"I don't understand-" Ste began.

"No, you don't understand, I don't care about your little girlfriend, I don't care about your personal relationships, I don't care about anything that involves you apart from the fact that you owe me _over_ two thousand pounds. This is purely a business deal, is that fucking clear? Is it? Because please, _please_, tell me if I need to spell it out for you, Steven."

"Alright, fine, it's business!" Ste shouted, thrown off by the other man's strange reaction. "Can I go now?"

"What, you got somewhere you need to be? Does someone need a man to sit on their arse and be unemployed for the forseeable future _urgently_?"

Ste left without asking again.

**DAY TWO.**

"So."

"So...?" Ste's response was restrained as he found himself back on the small couch in Brendan's house.

"You're a quiet one today." But even Brendan himself seemed subdued, as he chomped on a rather dry looking tray of takeaway food. "Someone finally figure out how to put you on mute?"

The man half-laughed at his own jibe, but Ste was done responding to them.

"Am I doing this job then?" Ste asked, in what he thought was his most business-like voice. "Or did you bring me over here to watch you eat noodles?"

That wiped the smile off his face. He slurped a little more food, then wiped his hands and nodded.

"Fine. If you wanna do it like that."

But Ste thought that Brendan had been the one who wanted it like this. Someone had their wires crossed he thought, and it wasn't him.

Brendan handed Ste a small envelope.

"I want you to take this to the same place you-" Brendan's phone began to ring. "Fucksake, wait here."

The walls in the house were hardly sound-proof, and Ste tried not to listen, but the way the man spoke on the phone instantly piqued his curiousity. He was angry, shouting, but not commanding as he usually was. He seemed more frustrated than anything. Ste could hear the name 'Eileen' being bandied around. Brendan's girlfriend maybe? His wife? Most of the details of the conversation were muffled.

"But it's his birthday, Eileen! You don't just get to decide when I can-"

It dawned on Ste then, that they were talking about a child. Brendan's child.

The conversation calmed down to a low hum through the walls, but when Brendan came back he looked like he was about to burst. He grabbed a fork, and stuffed the remainder of his food into his mouth with vigour.

Ste clutched the envelope. He didn't want to move incase it alerted the man to his presence. But how did he leave?

"Right, well, I'll just go then, shall I?" Ste tried, quietly.

"Do what you want." Was the sullen answer he received.

But before he could move, Brendan reached out and threw the table across the room in one smooth motion, sending glass and food flying everywhere.

Ste jumped out of his seat and over to the door.

"What does it take to get some decent fucking food around here?!"

Silence fell heavy in the room, as they both stared at the mess Brendan had made.

"Right...see you soon then." Ste said with false cheer as he made his escape out of the house.

He didn't want to be around if there was a chance that Brendan would _really_ fly off the handle. From their encounter at the taxi office, Ste guessed that it wasn't pretty.

He felt bad though. Was it okay that he just left when Brendan was so upset? If the conversation on the phone was about Brendan's kid, like Ste had assumed, then he knew what that felt like. To be a father. To love something so precious. To be responsible in a way Ste could never have imagined before.

He'd made a decision. On the way back from his delivery, Ste stopped at a corner shop.

Back at the house, Brendan's door was ajar, and after calling a few times to no avail, Ste decided to let himself in.

Down the long hall way, Ste could see there were a number of rooms, and a staircase at the end, but he knew better than to set foot past the room at the front where they normally sat. It was forbidden territory down there, and he knew it.

One look in the room told him that Brendan wasn't there either. The food was there though, and the smashed up table. All exactly as he'd left it. Ste wondered who would clean it up.

"That was quick." Brendan came up behind him, and Ste jumped.

"Yeah..."

Brendan pushed past him, and kicked some of the broken table aside so he could reach his chair.

"Just leave the money and go." Brendan rubbed at his eyes. He looked tired. Human. "I know you're fucking dying to get out of here."

"Err, well." Ste coughed, feeling guilty. "I do wanna get off actually, see me kids and that. Before I go, I got you these...err..."

Was this a good idea? Ste was pretty sure he was over stepping a boundary, or several, but Brendan only blinked at him, confused as Ste held out a pair of plastic bags.

"What..." Brendan didn't understand.

"It's some shopping." Ste explained, like he was talking to a child. "You know, food and that. Because I know you didn't like that stuff, did you?"

Ste nodded towards the mess of noodles and chicken, sprayed across the floor, and bit his lip waiting for the man's reaction.

Brendan approached him slowly, reminding Ste of a frightened animal, and pulled the handle of the bag aside to have a look in, like he'd thought Ste was lying to him or something.

"You bought me food?" He sounded dazed.

"It's just some butties and that-"

"Take it back."

"What?" Now Ste didn't understand.

"Are you actually stupid?" Brendan asked him. "You can barely buy food for yourself, what the fuck are you spending it on me for? Are you crazy?"

"No." Ste huffed. "I'm just trying to help, okay? You know, be nice? You might wanna try it one day."

Brendan reached a hand out gingerly, and then stopped.

"This doesn't change what you owe me."

"I know." Ste sighed, and thrust the bags against Brendan's chest, so he had no choice but to accept them. "Just take them, right. Eat something that isn't a nasty takeaway for a change, and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Steven." Brendan called him back as he was leaving, and Ste thought that he was going to say something, thank him maybe, but he didn't. "You're a weird guy, you know that?"

"Yeah." Ste laughed. "Seeya."

**DAY THREE.**

He was trying to push his way through the gate when he felt it, a hand on him, pulling him into the garden. It was the American guy from the other day, and he looked manic.

"Ere, what you doing?"

"Friendly warning." The guy hissed.

"What?" Ste was confused.

"He's not in a good mood today, so just, be careful."

He tried to leave, but Ste held him back.

"Nah, wait, what do you mean?"

"Having a nice little chat are we, ladies?" Brendan appeared in the door way and Ste could see instantly what the American guy meant.

There was no suit today, just a black t-shirt and jeans. Brendan didn't seemed to have shaved, and his face was hard and dour, like he was ready to truly take it out on the whole world.

"I was just helping with the gate-" The other guy began, but Brendan cut him off with a wave of the hand.

"You know, I think even a genius like Steven here can handle the mechanics of a piece of wood, so why don't you be on your merry fucking way out of here?"

The guy didn't move.

"Leave. Douglas." Brendan said, and Ste couldn't help but notice a slur in his voice.

The guy mouthed 'sorry' in Ste's direction, but he was out of sight in a flash, leaving just the two of them in the garden.

"You wanna come in?" Brendan asked mockingly, the slur more and more obvious. "No, of course you fucking don't. You'd have to be out of your mind, right?"

"What you on about?" He wasn't even making sense any more. "Look, I'm just here to do me job."

"Fuck you." Brendan spat.

"No, fuck you!" Ste couldn't take it any more. "You're pathetic, treating people the way you do! I'm sick of you!"

And he was sick of it. He was sick of this place, and his debts, and his crappy little life where he couldn't even provide properly for his own flesh and blood.

He tried to leave but the gate was stuck again, and Ste found himself raining down on it with his fists, punching it, kicking it, anything to just make it stop.

It opened with a crash, the lock hanging off after Ste's abrupt attack. He ran out of steam at the sight of it. It had been a long time since he'd gone off like that, and now he remembered why. Violence was an empty victory.

"Woah."

The sound of Brendan behind almost brought him to tears, he was so angry and humiliated. Ste couldn't even look at him.

"Just fuck off, right!"

"...Do you...wanna sit in the living room?" Brendan said after a while, quiet, like he hadn't really wanted Ste to hear him.

He should've told Brendan to fuck off again. He should've walked right out of there, found some other way to get the money. But he didn't.

Ste didn't know why he agreed. Curiosity maybe? Those other rooms in the house, like Brendan himself, had always intrigued him.

Maybe he just didn't have any fight left in him to say no. He tried to collect himself a bit.

But even as Brendan led him down the tight hall way, Ste couldn't stop himself looking into the other rooms, trying to find out more about the man, if he led a double life, where he was a normal guy with a wife and kids. Ste couldn't imagine it.

"It's this way." Brendan stopped in front of a room at the end. "If you're done being nosey, that is."

"I'm not!" Ste's instinct was to deny it, but the man only smiled. It was...nice. It defused the awkward atmosphere.

Brendan's living room was a surprise in many ways, but not in others. The furniture was certainly more expensive than the cheap couch Ste was used to. The sofa of this room was a plush black leather six-seater. The floor and table were dark, and wooden, and...cold. It didn't look like a room that had ever been lived in. No pictures, no warmth, no signs of life.

Nevertheless, Ste had an immediate soft spot for the sofa. He stroked it lovingly with one hand as he made himself comfortable, and Brendan sat opposite him.

"Feel better now?"

"Eh, it's well posh this, isn't it?" Ste gawped.

"You like it?"

"Yeah, it's well mint."

Brendan didn't speak then, instead choosing to sip on a glass of whiskey that had suddenly appeared in his hand. Now that Ste was closer he could see that the man's eyes were red and a little puffy. Maybe from the booze, Ste thought, but he couldn't help but think not. He wondered if it was something to do with his kid.

"Sorry about your fence." Ste offered, ashamed of his earlier actions.

"Are you kidding me? The fence was the least of my worries when you started going all hulk on me out there." Brendan said seriously. "Honestly, I feared for my life."

It took Ste a second to absorb the joke, and then he was laughing. He couldn't stop himself.

Brendan grinned with him, and he looked so much younger when he smiled. Ste found that he liked talking to him when he was like this. Thinking that the man would want to spend any time with him at all was kind of...flattering. Ste was enjoying it.

"No but, shut up, right." Ste went on, unsure again if he was crossing any lines. "You have to admit, you were being a bit...you know..."

"A bit of a prick?" Brendan finished the sentence, then more thoughtfully. "Yeah, I do that sometimes."

"Why?"

"Just who I am, I guess."

That seemed like the final word on it, so Ste backed off on the subject.

"No job today then?"

"You'll still get paid." Brendan anticipated the direction of the conversation.

"What, for just sitting here?"

"I could ask you to do worse things for the money, Steven."

"I know but-" It didn't make sense.

"You like it in here don't you?"

"Yeah." Ste nodded. "I mean, it's miles away from the state of my house. It's so...clean, and that."

"Well, I don't have anyone here to make a mess of it, do I?"

Of course, how could Ste be so stupid? Reminding Brendan that his family obviously weren't around.

"Sorry." Ste grimaced, then joked. "Eh, I could always mess it up for you if you want."

It was only a joke, but Brendan's gaze on him was like a fire that burned his skin, intense and all over him.

"And how would we do that, Steven?" The man spoke low and clear, menacing almost, but not.

Ste couldn't get a handle on it, he fidgeted in his seat, brushing his palms against his thighs to get rid of the sweat forming there. Why did he feel nervous all of a sudden?

"So..." How could he put this gently? "Do you have...people? A family and that?"

Brendan seemed disappointed with the turn of conversation, but answered anyway.

"Two boys, back in Ireland." He confessed. "The eldest, Declan, he's...he's not well-"

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry-" Ste began.

"It's not a life or death kind of thing." Brendan stopped him with a hand. "But it's..."

Ste couldn't get his head around it, couldn't imagine one of his own...

"In Ireland though?" Ste gaped. "Don't they need you over there?"

Brendan laughed, cold.

"My family don't need me, Steven. What they need is my money, and this-" He gestured around the room, like a king presenting his kingdom. "This is the best place to make it."

"That's nonsense." Ste told him. "Kids need their dad."

"Not this one." He insisted. "I'm not good for people."

"Did your wife tell you that?" Ste remembered the conversation he'd overheard Brendan and Eileen having over the phone. "Because it's rubbish, right. Kids need love, more than they need money or anything like that, they need love. And you love them, don't you? I can tell."

"Well." Brendan smiled sadly to himself. "It's a nice idea, kid. But what about you? What about your little ones?"

"What about them?"

"I dunno." Brendan said, sitting back comfortably. "Tell me about them."

"Well, I've got two, Leah and Lucas. Leah's not mine biologically, but I love her like-"

And Ste didn't think he was the type of guy who could chew someone's ear off talking about his kids, but apparently he was. Brendan listened though, that was the most surprising thing. He never said a word but just watched, and relaxed into his chair like he was taking in every over excited syllable. Like Ste was the only thing in the room worth paying attention to. It felt good.

"Yeah, so...that's it really." He finished, the mans unwavering stare beginning to bring an unexplainable blush to his cheeks.

"And Amy?" Brendan asked.

"Thought you didn't wanna talk about her?"

Brendan shrugged.

"There's nothing to say really." Ste told him again. "We just live together, looking after the kids and that-"

"And what about...anyone else?" Brendan sat forward in his chair. "Someone special?"

"No." Ste spluttered. "No, not at the moment."

"No one at all?" Brendan seemed sceptical. "Come on, kid. Guy like you. They must be lining up."

"In me dreams." Ste brushed off the comment. "I mean, I go out and that but, I dunno. I'm not good at knowing what to say, I suppose."

Brendan nearly choked on his drink.

"Well, no, I can talk obviously." Ste went on. "Just like, flirting and that, I mean. I'm no good at it."

"Maybe you are and you just don't know it."

"How's that?" Ste felt his brow creasing at the odd suggestion.

Brendan lent further forward now, intimate, and Ste felt the need to do the same.

"Flirting is more than just words, Steven." Brendan told him steadily. "It's a look, a smile, a tone of voice. An accidental innuendo here, a..." The man's gaze fell to his lips. "...bite of the lip there. Those kinds of things."

"You reckon?" Ste supposed that made sense.

"You just need the right person to pick up on it and then..." Brendan waved his hands, like he was performing a magic trick.

"Then..." Ste used his hips to motion having sex with someone.

Brendan's eye's widened at the movement.

"Yeah. Yeah, something like that." Brendan seemed like he was trying not to look, but that tension was there again, dark and unyielding, like a spark had been ignited. "Yeah."

Brendan downed the rest of his drink and then wiped his mouth.

"You've got a way with words, kid. You know that?" His tone was regretful.

Ste just laughed, because he didn't understand the comment. He felt like he didn't understand anything that was happening any more. But his heart beat in his chest felt almost giddy.

"Are you gonna offer me some of that?" He pointed towards Brendan's drink as the man topped up his glass.

"Jesus, no." Brendan's eyes were on him again, and he smirked. "I don't think I could handle you drunk."

"Oi, shut it." Ste snickered, and shoved Brendan's arm to tell him off.

Brendan clasped a hand around his wrist, just over Ste's pulse.

"Now, now, young Steven." Brendan yanked the boy closer, until his mouth was almost at Ste's ear, and he whispered, taking care over every single word. "Don't make me put you in your place."

The smell of whiskey and aftershave was over-powering. That had to be it, why Ste's heart was racing, why he couldn't move, why he found himself looking at the dark lashes of Brendan's eyes, the stubble on his cheeks, the thick hair of his moustache.

A clock chimed. A strange little thing in the corner of the room that looked like it cost an absolute fortune.

"Oh my god, is that the time?" Ste yelped.

Amy would be sick with worry.

Brendan removed his hand from Ste's wrist, and resumed his laid back position on the couch. He seemed frustrated, and Ste felt guilty again. He obviously needed the company.

"It's just..."

"I know." Brendan told him. "Amy, kids, I know. Go."

"Thanks, seeya!"

"Steven!" Yet again, Brendan called him back.

"What?" Ste fumbled with his coat, and when there was no answer, had to give Brendan his full attention. "What is it?"

"Nothing. Seeya tomorrow."

And Ste left, to get home as fast as he could, the events of the night a whirlwind that he couldn't even begin to process.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay, here is part two, one more part left to go! Thank you so much for the lovely comments, I'm honestly stunned by the reviews and reactions. Love you guys!**

* * *

"You thinking of buying one of those bad boys?"

It was the American again. Doug or something, wasn't it?

"Oh, no." Ste laughed, taking a step back from the window full of shiny plasma televisions that he'd been admiring. "I wish I could afford one."

If things carried on the way they were, Ste would have to start selling his possessions soon enough, and the idea filled him with dread. Their telly was the most valuable thing they owned, and it seemed like a natural starting place, but he'd been avoiding it. Thoughts of his children stopped him, in their fuzzy dressing gowns, eating cereal, giggling along with their favourite cartoon characters. What kind of father couldn't even give them that?

"But the money is good right? Working for Brendan? At least it used to be." Doug smiled sadly. "Worth putting up with his temper, anyhow. You get used to it, sort of."

He patted Ste on the shoulder, a gesture of sympathy.

"Really?" Ste asked. "Do you like know him dead well then?"

The thought didn't sit well with him, and Ste didn't know why. Brendan was his debt collector, not his best friend. What did it matter if this Doug knew him better?

It did matter though. After last night, Ste had easily tricked himself into believing that Brendan liked him. The way they'd talked, and sat together. It had been comfortable. Easy. Like mates would do.

It had been a long time since Ste had made a connection like that, and it had felt good. But perhaps he'd imagined it. Perhaps Brendan's temporary good nature had been down to the whiskey. Perhaps he often invited people into his home when he was drunk, and vulnerable. Perhaps Doug had been in there a thousand times, for all Ste knew.

Something dark and ugly twisted in his chest. Jealousy? Because Brendan might've had friends? Ste knew that he was being ridiculous.

"As well as anyone, I guess." Doug shrugged.

"Oh, right. You like mates then?" Ste tried to be casual, but he needed to know the nature of their relationship.

"What? No." Doug laughed, hard. "No. God, no! Jesus. Why would you even think that? Have you seen the way he speaks to me, do we seem like buddies to you? Wow."

"Well, alright. I was just asking." Ste was relieved, though he tried to hide it. Then something occurred to him. "So, why do you put up with him then?"

"Why?" Doug's laugh faded, and he looked to his feet. "Well, the money, I guess. I mean, I'm not exactly proud of myself, what I do..."

"No?"

"If I could find a real job that paid this well..." Then he seemed to shake the thought from his head, and he smiled brightly again. "But, hey, you know how it is, right?"

"Well, I don't really get that much money out of it." Ste admitted.

The money Brendan gave him on the side barely covered rent and food.

Doug frowned at the comment, then lifted his head like a light had been switched on in there. "Ah, I get it. You do the same job for a lower price? That makes sense."

"No, well..." Ste didn't know how to explain. "I mean, kind of. This is just a temporary thing though, I'm not really like into this stuff properly. I'm a chef, me."

"A chef?" Doug looked like he felt sorry for Ste. "Yeah, I used to have ambitions too. I used to tell myself that I'd only deal for a little while, that I'd get back on track-"

"No, I mean really." Ste told him. "I'm a chef. I'm only doing these jobs for Brendan until I clear all my debt, then-"

"Your debt?" Doug looked stunned. "What do you mean, like your one of the guys who took a loan from him?"

"Well, I'm not saying it was my best decision-"

"What?" He seemed unable to process it. "How is that possible?"

"Well, you try looking after two kids with no job and see what kind of things you end up-"

"No, but that makes no sense, don't you see?" Doug waved his arms, almost yelling his words all of a sudden. "He's letting you off with the loan _and_ paying you to work for him at the same time? Doesn't that mean he's actually losing money here?!"

"Well, if you put it like that..." It was a bit odd, but Brendan was a smart guy. "I'm sure he's got his reasons..."

Even if Ste couldn't exactly think of any on the spot.

"Look, I gotta go." Doug told him. "But listen, you seem like a nice guy, and Brendan...he doesn't really do selflessness, so word of warning, whatever his 'reasons', just be careful, yeah?"

Ste ventured home, more confused than ever.

**DAY FOUR.**

Ste was going to bring it up. Honestly, he was. He'd wracked his brains all day trying to figure out what Brendan's angle was, and had come up with nothing. But then he'd arrived at the house, and Brendan seemed...on edge. Agitated. Ste thought that the last thing he needed was an interrogation.

Besides wasn't the whole thing working out to Ste's advantage anyway? And he had to admit that a part of him enjoyed being there. Why rock the boat?

But Brendan was cold with him during their meeting, and it dismayed Ste to have the man's bad temper directed at him yet again. He'd thought they were past this.

"Here." They met in the usual, shabbier room, and Brendan tossed a couple of parcels onto Ste's lap with force. "Usual place. Get on it."

"Ere, there's no need for that." Ste protested, shielding his groin with one hand, and rearranging the boxes with the other. "Near took me balls off then!"

"Aw." Brendan sneered, but his gaze lowered to the area long enough to make Ste shift in his seat, confused.

"What's up with you?" Ste asked, unable to hold back the sense of familiarity he felt with the man. "Is it Declan?...Did you wanna talk-"

Brendan flinched at the use of his child's name.

"What can you not get into that thick, little, head of yours, about this just being a business deal?" He snapped, nasty. "All you have to do is come here, make a delivery, and fuck off, but you just can't _stop_ can you?"

"Stop what?!" Ste couldn't believe that they were back here again. "I don't even know what you're on about!"

"Yeah, you think I don't know that?!"

"Oh fine, you know what?" Ste got up to leave. "I will fuck off. I'll do this delivery, and then I'll come back tomorrow, and I'll do the same thing, and then you'll never have to see me ever again, and I'll be glad because your fucking mental, you are!"

"Wait, hold on." Ste's speech seemed to have sobered him a bit, and Brendan spoke quieter now as he moved to block the exit. "Hold on a second."

They were close, toe-to-toe, as Brendan reached out a hand to stop Ste from leaving. It landed on his shoulder first, tentatively, then more firmly, squeezing as Ste angrily waited for an explanation.

Brendan's eyes darted from the floor, to his hand on Ste's shoulder, to Ste's face, blinking rapidly.

"Maybe..." Brendan screwed up his face a little bit, apologetic almost. Ste wondered if he'd ever get the hang of his mood swings. "Maybe, I was a little hasty, with the...shouting. I mean, it's almost your last day-"

"So?" Ste pouted, his patience running thin.

"So..." Brendan grasped both of Ste's shoulders then, and spoke carefully, his eyes willing Ste to listen. "Now's the time to think about your future, you know. Maybe, you've found something that you're good at, something that could provide for your little ones? I could consider working something out, long-term, if you were interest-"

"No." Ste almost laughed it was so ludicrous. "No way."

He shook Brendan's hands off him and the man looked disappointed. Hurt, even? Perhaps Ste was reading too much into it.

"Steven, you ain't thinking about it properly." Brendan implored. "This benefits both of us. And think of how much better your kid's lives would be with the money-"

"Stop." Ste couldn't believe it. "Just stop, right. You go on all the time, like I'm the stupid one or something, but if you think selling your soul for a bit of cash makes you a good dad, then maybe you're not as clever as you think you are."

Brendan was quiet for a moment, and Ste hoped that his words had made an impact for a change.

"I don't think you're stupid." Brendan said eventually.

"That wasn't really my point." Ste rolled his eyes.

"I just think...this." He gestured between the two of them. "It works doesn't it?"

"Does it?" Ste snorted.

"Alright," Suddenly Brendan reached out and batted the packages right out of Ste's hold, not even looking as they fell to the floor with a bang. "I think that's enough of that for today."

"Brendan! What you doing?!" Ste made to pick them up, but found himself pulled back by his sleeve. "They're expensive them, aren't they?"

"Didn't you just say 'money isn't everything'?" He imitated Ste's tone by the way of a smug English accent. "Fuck 'em."

"I don't understand you." Ste grumbled, as he followed Brendan into a room down the hall.

It was a kitchen this time.

"Trust me, kid. You wouldn't want to." Brendan said cryptically, as he sat himself on one of the tall metal stools that lined a breakfast bar, in the center of the room.

"Oooh, why not?" Ste whispered, poking fun at Brendan as he sat opposite him. "Because you're such a bad, bad man? I think I can handle it."

Brendan kept an eye on Ste's lips as they formed the words, and a smile almost tugged at the corner of his own mouth. He looked like he was going to say something, then he changed his mind, his serious face returning.

"Alright, don't take the piss." Brendan warned him. "Make me something to eat."

"What?" The demand caught Ste off guard.

"Food." Brendan ordered. "Make me some."

"I'm not your house maid!" Ste gaped. "Make it yourself."

"What, when I have a trained chef in my debt? Why would I do that?"

"No, I'm not doing it." Ste told him, but not as firmly as before. "I'd rather do the delivery."

"Steven, come on. You know you want to."

And the way he said it...Ste didn't know why it convinced him. Maybe he was just waiting for an opportunity like this. To show Brendan that he was more than just some fool, down on his luck. He had skills, talent. He was worth something.

"Right, well, only because I've seen the rubbish you eat, and I'm worried about your health, like." Ste joked, looking through Brendan's cupboards to find the only things in there - the ingredients Ste had purchased for him days earlier.

It was sad, really. Even the pans and utensils still had labels on them. The more Ste found out about him, the more isolated Brendan seemed to be. From the look of it, he had no one, and his wife had definitely done all the cooking.

Ste wondered how the man even managed to stay so fit, when it was clear that he must have been living on take out food and nothing else for some time.

"You should really learn to cook for yourself, you know." Ste said off-hand, then bit his lip at his own insensitivity. "Sorry, I just meant-"

"Maybe I'll hire you." Brendan said abruptly, and Ste couldn't tell if he was kidding or not. "I quite like the sound of having my own personal chef around. Running around after me, waiting on my every call."

"It'd probably cost you less." Ste laughed. "You must spend a fortune at the kebab house, like. Must go down the gym a lot too."

"What do you mean?" Brendan seemed surprised by the assumption.

"I mean, I'm just thinking about your diet, and I'd expect you to be right little tubby by now."

"Tubby?" He'd never seen Brendan look so offended. "No way, kid. No way. You feel this muscle here, and then call me a tubby."

"What? No, I don't think-"

"Feel it." Brendan had his arm up, flexed. "Go on."

Ste could already see the way the material of his shirt strained at the action. It was kind of...daunting, in a way that he couldn't describe, but he found himself doing as he was told anyway. Giving the muscle an awkward, gentle squeeze before backing away. He could smell Brendan's aftershave again.

"Yeah, it's err...very...hard and that." Ste stuttered, blushing at his own choice of words. What the fuck was wrong with him? "Congratulations."

"Thank you." Brendan smiled, relishing the reaction.

"So, food." Ste busied himself, pouring a jar of sauce into a pan. "It'll have to be spaghetti, I reckon. You don't have the makings of much else."

"Whatever you think." Brendan said, and it was nice to be the one who knew what he was talking about for a change.

He hadn't cooked for anyone who wasn't an immediate member of his family for such a long time, and he felt the enjoyment of it return to him, even if he hadn't prepared the dish from scratch.

"I hope you're watching this." He said to Brendan as he went about it, even thought he could feel the man's eyes follow his every move.

"Watching...?" Brendan seemed confused, almost embarrassed for some reason.

"Watching what I'm doing." Ste said slowly, draining the pan of spaghetti. "How else you gonna remember how to make it."

"Oh." Brendan appeared to have a realisation. "The recipe, right. Yeah, it's _fascinating_ stuff."

"Alright, no need to get funny about it." Ste grumbled, but there was no real bad feeling behind it. He was comfortable.

The plate had barely touched the table before Brendan was on it, wrapping the spaghetti around his fork, slurping up sauce from his lips, all round demolishing the dish.

"You eat like a pig." Ste told him, but found himself grinning as he watched.

It was good to see someone enjoying his work again.

Brendan responded, but Ste found it difficult to decipher the words while the man's mouth was full. Ste chose to think that it was a compliment.

When Brendan had finished, he threw his fork down, all but licking the plate, and wiping his mouth on his hand.

"You know, when your file said 'worked in a restaurant' I thought waiter, obviously. But that was...nice."

"Right. Well, cheers, I think." Ste decided to make the best of Brendan's attempt at niceness. "You've got some sauce...like..."

Ste pointed on his own face to show Brendan that it was on his moustache, but he seemed to know anyway, and his tongue poked out to lick at the short hairs above his top lip.

Ste found that he had to look away.

"Got it?" Brendan asked him.

"Yeah." Ste mumbled. "Ere, wait, how did you know I was a chef then, if it didn't say in my file?"

"Douglas told me." Brendan said it like it was nothing, but Ste felt that thing in his chest again.

"Oh right."

Silence fell, and Ste checked his phone.

"You waiting on a call?" Brendan spoke darkly, unimpressed by the distraction.

"No, just-" Ste put the phone away.

"A woman is it?" Brendan said stiffly.

"No." Ste said assuredly. "Haven't got time for women, me."

"Is that so?"

"I wish, I did." Ste laughed."I mean, I even met this girl the other week, right, quite fit actually."

"Really?"

"Didn't have any money to take her out though, did I? So..." Ste laughed at his own bad luck, but Brendan didn't join him.

"Is that a hint?" He sneered. "You want me to give you more money so you can chase half-dressed women down at the club?"

"No." Ste insisted. "You already give me enough, and i'm dead grateful, aren't I? I was just saying..."

"Just saying what?"

"I don't know!" Ste was getting flustered now, confused by Brendan's sudden bad moods. "Just forget it, right. Bloody hell."

"You shouldn't be doing it."

"What?"

"Chasing women. It's sleazy." Brendan said, his tone less aggressive and more serious all of sudden. "You're better than that."

"If you say so." Ste didn't know how else to respond. What was wrong with chasing women? Isn't that what blokes his age were supposed to be doing? Who was Brendan to tell him that he couldn't? "I don't understand you, you know! I mean, what is this?"

Because Ste didn't understand. Sitting in Brendan's kitchen, chatting, surely wasn't worth wiping a two thousand pound debt. Doug was right, it made no sense.

"What do you mean?" Brendan acted confused.

"Well, I'm just sitting around, right, and you're paying me? I mean, what? I don't get it." Doug's words from earlier came back to him. "Aren't you...losing money?"

"Why do you care all of a sudden?" Brendan's back was up then, defensive.

"I'm just saying..." Ste watched as Brendan clenched his jaw. "Look, can't you just be straight with me for once?!"

Brendan looked like he was fighting himself. His own lap suddenly fascinating.

"You know, I had Doug round here earlier, shouting his mouth off too." Brendan confessed. "That's not like him, talking back. Reckon you're a bad influence."

Brendan smiled to himself as he said the last part, but Ste didn't see what was so funny.

"He's pissed off." Brendan continued. "Because I took a load of jobs off him, and gave them to you instead."

"Oh right." Ste tried to follow the path of the conversation.

"I guess I don't really need two people to do his job."

What was he saying?

"Are you firing me?" Ste jumped off his stool, and Brendan stood too, arms out to calm the boy down.

"No, I'm not firing you." Brendan insisted.

"But." Ste was struggling. "You should!...Why are you even doing this?"

"I don't know." He looked uncomfortable. "I don't mind...having you here, I suppose."

"What?" What did that mean.

"You're...okay." Brendan offered, more harassed by the moment. "Funny."

"Funny? Are you mad?" Ste felt like Brendan was speaking a different language, the amount of sense he was making.

Then Brendan was touching Ste's arm, fingers gently rubbing the material of his sleeve. His face was softer than Ste had ever seen it. Ste didn't know why. When had Brendan gotten so close?

"I told Doug it was because you're a family man, you know?" Brendan flashed a dangerous smile, unable to look Ste in the eye. "I felt sorry for you."

Something was happening. Ste had stopped breathing. He felt like he was waiting for something. A pull in his gut that he'd never realised was there before.

"Was that the reason?"

Brendan looked sick with guilt.

"Because that's not a bad thing, is it?" Ste thought aloud. "I mean, you're letting me off with the debt, doing me a massive favour, because you know I've got kids and that. That's you doing a good thing."

"Jesus, is that how you see this?" Brendan looked astounded. Hysterical. "You think of this as me doing you a favour?"

"Yeah, definitely." Ste told him. "You're not as bad as you think you are like-"

Then Brendan's nose bumped his, and Ste wasn't sure what was happening until he felt a mouth on top of his own, hot and wet, pressing into his lips, needing them to open, grabbing him closer.

Brendan was kissing him. _Kissing him._

There were hands on his face, digging into his hair. A body, solid and warm against his own as they fell against the kitchen counter. Then teeth, on him, and Ste heard himself gasp. His hands clung to Brendan's shirt. He pushed himself into it. He wanted it. More of it. Everywhere.

Then he was gone, and Ste had to hold onto the counter for support because his head was spinning and he wasn't sure that his legs would hold him up anymore.

Brendan stood away from him, chest puffing in and out in time with his heaving breaths. He held his own mouth, and Ste felt the need to mirror it, but his own lips felt numb, his fingertips against them were lame compared to the onslaught of stubble and teeth and tongue that had stole his senses. Ste could still taste the man.

"Did you just...?" Ste couldn't tell if he was saying it out loud or not, the blood pumping in his ears blocked everything.

"No. Shut up!" Brendan looked horrified, wiping his mouth roughly. "That was...I didn't...I shouldn't have done that to you."

"Brendan...what the..." Ste didn't know what else to say.

"Out." Brendan took hold of Ste when he didn't respond. "Out of my house, now."

"I...no..." Ste tried to wrench the hands off him.

He needed to stay. He needed an explanation. But before he knew it, Ste was being pushed out into the garden, almost losing his footing as he was thrust onto the concrete steps. The door was slammed behind him.

What the fuck had just happened?

**DAY FIVE.**

Ste hadn't slept. How could he, with the memory of Brendan and what had happened the day before? How could he do anything without answers? None of it made sense!

"Brendan!" Ste shouted through the letterbox, because there was no answer at the door but Ste needed to see him. "Brendan, I know you're in there-"

The door was wrenched open, and Ste nearly fell straight into the house, but managed to catch himself at the last second.

He caught a glimpse of Brendan, who looked similarly like he'd had a sleepless night, his hair flat, and his eyes tired.

"Hiya..." Ste's voice came as a whisper. Faced with the man, he didn't know what to say. Where did he start with everything that he was feeling? His questions were a mountain that stuck sharp in his throat.

Brendan barely acknowledged him as he threw towards him a thick brown envelope.

"Consider your debts paid."

"You what?" The money was the last thing on his mind. "What's this?"

The door shut again.

"No, hang on!" Ste yelped, but he was gone.

Ste opened the envelope instead.

He almost fell over when he saw how much money was in it.


End file.
